Stanford
by Winchester and Winchester
Summary: [Pre-series & AU Pilot] Dean is hurt in a hunt and when he can't get ahold of his Dad, he goes to Sam. No slash.
1. Chapter 1

It wasn't a knife or a bullet and it wasn't a sword. It was something new. Some kind of short, sharp instrument. Maybe it was just a broken beer bottle. Dean hadn't gotten a good look at it in the fight, he only knew that it hurt like hell. The slice in his side was bleeding quite profusely and Dean fought to keep a hand over it, pressing the towels he held over it roughly, all the while blinking rapidly to keep his attention on the road. He released the wheel for a second and let his knee control it as he searched the passenger seat for his phone. "Dammit," he whispered when his hand made contact with nothing but leather seat.

Keeping his eyes on the barely visible road amid the oppressive darkness, his hand continued searching aimlessly. If he could just get ahold of Dad he would know where to go next. Dad stole a car earlier in the week and headed off to Windom, Minnesota but with the intention of moving on from there quickly while Dean went to Palo Alto, California to try to wrap up a case they had worked on - but apparently not finished - a few months back.

Finally his hand found the phone. He snapped it open and dialed quickly, grunting as he shifted and angered the wound. His breathing was shallow and Dean could sense that familiar feeling of unconsciousness drifting in. Shaking his head to keep awake, he held the phone to his ear, ignoring the cut for a moment to hold the wheel. "Come on, Dad," he hissed into the phone.

The music that blasted over the radio did little to keep his attention off the pain but somehow the loud singing seemed comforting.

When the ringing subsided and ended with John's message to leave a number, Dean threw his cell at the opposite door and replaced his right hand on the wheel while his left went back to the wound. He didn't know where Dad was or how to get to him, so he could be alone to fix the wound himself. Which normally would be okay but this one was different. He wondered if the ghoul he'd fought with and ended up killing had dipped its weapon in poison. There was something wrong and he knew it. Dean just wanted some help.

The Impala's headlights shone over the upcoming exit sign that stood against the highway and Dean's eyes widened. He hadn't realized how close he was… should he go? Would that be weird? Would Sam think he was taking advantage of him if Dean went to him for help?

Without thinking, Dean moved the wheel and the Impala eased into the new right lane that led off the highway and towards Stanford, California.

Once off the highway, Dean began to second guess the choice. He hadn't seen his brother in many months and hadn't talked to him in years. The last time Dean had seen Sam was when John and Dean were in Palo Alto before working the case. John drove by the school and waited outside the dorms to get a glimpse of his son. Dean hadn't argued.

But this would be different. Dean knew where Sam's dorm was but didn't know his room. And how could he get to Sam without being noticed, bleeding and stumbling? This plan was sounding less and less appealing the more Dean drove.

Maybe Sam would be happy to see him, his thoughts countered. Maybe he would be alright with the sudden visit, even if it was close to midnight. Probably not though.

And then, there it was. The school was huge, bigger than Dean thought a school should ever be. It boasted many buildings and huge parking lots, many of which were nearly full. Dean followed the signs to Sam's dorm room's parking lot, wincing and moaning as the pain deepened. His head was throbbing and he could feel the blood soaking through the towels. It wasn't a wonder he was having trouble staying focused on anything with that much blood loss.

Finding a spot right near the front, Dean turned into it and shifted the car into park. He sat, staring at the entrance to the building. It seemed a hundred miles away, give or take. And he noticed a few students standing outside smoking. They saw the car and Dean immediately turned off the ignition and flicked off the headlights. No need to draw attention to himself.

He didn't move, didn't dare to get out, especially with people there. No, he'd wait til they left.

But Dean didn't notice them go in. He rested his head back against the seat and groaned. He wouldn't be surprised to find out he had been poisoned. It seemed right. The way his head spun, how the area around the cut was far more sensitive than a normal blade's wound. And how he couldn't keep his eyes open.

Then, everything, both outside the Impala and inside, went dark.


	2. Chapter 2

"See you guys tomorrow," Sam said with a smile as he passed the few students that remained outside to finish their cigarettes. It wasn't a habit he'd ever felt a desire for and he coughed quietly as he walked through the smoke. He continued to the dumpster where he lifted the lid and tossed the small black bag inside. The garbage bags hadn't even been filled inside his room but he had wanted some fresh air and at midnight, the only two reasons to go outside were a trip to the dumpster or a smoke.

Once the lid was closed again, Sam turned away and crossed his arms over his chest, looking around the expansive area. This was his dream. He couldn't even remember the number of years he had longed to go somewhere, anywhere, like this. And Stanford was exactly what he had hoped it would be. In fact, it was more. Jessica had been an added bonus that he'd least expected. She was sweet, gentle, kind, and she understood him. Or at least she understood the parts of him he allowed her to see.

He would probably never tell her the truth about what he'd done in his life, he only said that he and his family didn't really get along and he hadn't wanted to get into the family business so he went to school in an attempt to start his own life. And she'd accepted that. He knew at some point she may want more details and maybe he would freely give them but for now, the less she knew the better.

Sam glanced over the parking lot, just making sure his car was still in the same place, but he was immediately distracted by the black car sitting nearby. It was… could it be? No, that's impossible, he thought. Looking back at the door to make sure the other students had gone inside, Sam slowly made his way to the Impala. His eyes were wide and he didn't dare blink.

As he neared, Sam noticed Dean in the driving seat, head back against the seat. "Dean?" he breathed, shocked to see his brother. He inhaled slowly, not sure what to do next. His mind played through a hundred reasons for Dean's presence - and his being alone in their Dad's car. Maybe their Dad had been hurt… maybe he'd been killed. Or maybe Dean had just wanted to talk to him. Maybe he wanted out of the hunting game too. Or maybe -

His thoughts stopped when Sam looked in the car and saw, with the aid of the tall lamppost nearby, the blood on Dean's shirt. He immediately knocked on the window and when Dean didn't stir, he knew something was wrong. Sam pulled the car door open and knelt down, judging the situation quickly. The amount of blood could have been fatal and he hoped that all of the blood was not Dean's. Sam's hand went to his brother's neck and tentatively felt for a pulse. Thankful for the slow rhythm, he slipped the keys from the ignition and gripped his brother's arms, trying to gently pull him from the car.

Jess would be stunned to see him leave with garbage and come back with a bleeding man, but Sam didn't care. He lifted Dean's arm over his shoulders and kicked the Impala's door closed. Dean moaned in pain when Sam stepped onto the sidewalk and he slowed, whispering an apology. He half dragged Dean to the door, trying to adjust him without causing him more pain and used his foot to open the dorm door.

The stairs ahead of him were a daunting task but he took each step slowly and with care, making sure that Dean was still unconscious and therefore feeling less pain than he would if he were awake. While he walked, Sam tried to understand why Dean would come here; if it had been an intentional choice or a last resort. He knew that Sam would still remember how to patch up a wound but did he know how dangerous this was?

If a teacher or monitor caught site of him dragging a stranger into his room, the questions would be unending.

Finally Sam reached his floor and knocked on the door with his knee. Jess would be cautious to open the door, especially since Sam had his key and would have walked right in. It took a moment for her to unlock it. "Sam?" she asked, her gaze fearfully focused on the bleeding man at his side. "What's going on?"

Sam quickly moved past her and walked to their room, lowering Dean until he was laying. Sam straightened and turned to her. "Jess, this is my brother. He was outside, unconscious. I'm gonna help him."

Jess' eyes moved from Sam to Dean and back. "That's Dean?" Sam nodded once, anxious to get to the first aid kit he insisted on keeping by their bed. Jess never questioned his odd habits, like why he had a small jar of salt and water right beside the kid, and Sam was thankful for her discretion. "Why is he bleeding?"

"I think he's been stabbed." He stepped by her and felt under the bed for the small box. Lifting it out, he set it on the bed and began removing the things he would need. At least it wasn't a bullet and he wouldn't have to get it out.

"Sam!" His head snapped up and he saw her panic. "Please, just talk to me for a second. Why has your brother been stabbed and what is he doing here? Is someone coming for him - and us?"

He slowly stood and took her in his arms, ignoring Dean's blood that now covered the side of his shirt. She melted against him, instantly calming. "It's okay," he whispered before kissing the top of her head. "I don't know why he's here and I don't know what happened but I'm sure we're safe. I just have to patch him up because the sooner he heals, the sooner he'll wake up." He pulled back a little to look into her eyes.

She blinked a few times before closing her eyes fully. "Okay." She stepped out of the embrace and cleared her throat. "What can I do?"

"You just go back to what you were doing and I'll work on him."

Jess nodded and turned to the desk, gathering her books and papers. It struck Sam how different his two worlds were and how strange it felt when they collided. Jess, and her pile of homework, represented the simplicity that he had longed for. Meanwhile Dean represented the complex life he had run from. And yet here they were in the same room.

Jess' eyes washed over Dean and she quietly said, "I hope he's alright." Sam smiled at her and she left the bedroom, closing the door behind her. Sam immediately set to work on Dean, removing the once white towels from his side and pushing up the soaking shirt. The cut was deep, very deep, but the edging was clean. He didn't know what the weapon had been or how the attacker had gotten the better of Dean in a fight, but he set his questions aside to focus wholly on helping his brother.

He rinsed the wound with the cleaning liquid, causing Dean to moan. Sam hesitated, waiting to see if Dean was still asleep and when Dean didn't move any more, he continued. Next he noticed the coloring around the wound, stretching from Dean's upper side to his waist. It wasn't a body' usual reaction to being stabbed and it concerned him. But there was nothing he could do to the physical area, if Dean had been poisoned he would need to drink a concoction and that would come when he woke up.

Sam carefully bandaged the area, taping it twice to make sure it was secure and wouldn't come off it Dean moved.

Finishing, Sam sat back on the bed and stared at his brother. There were a few bruises along his jaw and his lip was cut. Whatever had happened had been brutal and fierce. And whatever had attacked him, Sam hoped Dean had killed it.

He stood from the bed, gathering the materials back into the kit and sliding it back under the bed. He'd look up the ingredients he would need for the poison tomorrow, if it was needed. Sam made a conscious reminder to himself to also call their father. It didn't matter what terms they were on since their last discussion, John deserved to know where Dean was.

Stifling a yawn, Sam pulled a few blankets from the closet and walked into the living room, smiling at Jess when she looked up. "Is he okay?" He grazed a kiss over her forehead as he passed, his hand lingering on her neck. He loved when she wore her hair in a ponytail.

"Yeah… for now." He didn't want to be overly confident but he was pretty sure Dean would pull through. He always did.

"Good." Sam set the blankets on the floor in front of the couch, pushing the coffee table aside. "What are you doing?"

"I'm gonna sleep on the floor and you can take the couch." He gave her an apologetic smile. "I don't want to move him."

Jess slowly closed her books and set down her pen before standing and walking to him. She knelt in front of him and took his hands in hers. "I can take the floor."

Sam wondered how he had ever gotten so lucky with her as he leaned forward and kissed her. She may not have understood much of his life but she understood him now and that was all he had ever wanted. The two pulled the blankets apart and made it into a makeshift - and quite uncomfortable - bed, but as they lay beside each other, her back pressed firmly against his chest and legs entwined, Sam doubted they could be more comfortable.


	3. Chapter 3

When Dean slowly awoke, his eyes felt glued shut. He tried to open them but they remained closed, his physical exhaustion taking precedence over his desire to look around. He immediately knew that his surroundings were different from when he'd fallen asleep and not just by the soft bed beneath him. There was a smell… he couldn't quite put his finger on it…

"Good morning, sunshine."

Sam's voice quietly filled the room and Dean didn't move. His breath hitched. "Sammy?" he whispered hoarsely when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

Dean pushed past his body's refusal and his swollen eyes gradually focused on Sam. He was perched on the side of the queen size bed, one leg on the floor while the other was tucked beneath him. Sam's smile was filled with relief and he looked over Dean's body, stopping at his side. "How are you?" he asked, motioning towards the wound.

It felt better than when he last remembered but the pain was still gripping and impossible to ignore. He glanced down stiffly and gave a tired smile before dropping his head back onto the pillow. "Glad you still remember how to do that."

Sam smiled. "Kinda hard to forget." Dean's eyes drifted closed as he listened to Sam talk. He'd forgotten just how Sammy sounded, the way he spoke and how he pronounced words. It was silly, he thought, but after three years he was desperately thankful to hear that voice. "You were pretty messed up. What happened?"

"Got on the bad side of a ghoul," he said with a soft chuckle.

"Ghouls have a good side?"

Dean breathed a laugh. "Not that I've ever seen."

Comfortable silence stretched between them as Dean worked up the strength to sit up. When he did, Sam tried to help. "Easy," he muttered as Dean pushed himself up til he was leaning against the wall behind. His breaths came in quick gasps and he firmly released them to ease his pounding heart. The minimal effort proved a little too much for his tired body. The stab wound complained from movement, throbbing sharply, and Dean groaned quietly.

Sam moved back to where he had been sitting, and how he had, and watched his brother as he breathed, eyes closed as he focused on his exhaling. "Hey, Dean?" he asked when Dean began breathing normally.

"Yeah."

"Why… why did you come here?"

Dean's eyes remained closed as he moved his head to the right then left and shrugged. "Honestly? I had nowhere else to go."

Sam gave a one sided smile as he glanced down to his hands. "Always with the sweet talk."

"Yeah," Dean whispered with a chuckle. He cleared his throat. "I tried to get ahold of Dad but he didn't pick up… I saw the sign for Stanford… bada-bing bada-boom, here I am."

Sam bit the inside of his cheek. He inhaled slowly. "Well I'm glad you did. It's good to see you."

"You too, Sammy."

The door slowly creaked open and Dean's eyes flew open. The beautiful blonde young woman that stood in the doorway was surely a side effect of his blood loss, he reasoned. There really wasn't any other explanation. But when Sam stood and walked to her, wrapping one arm around her, Dean began to reconsider. And as the door widened, his mind settled on what the barely familiar smell was. Chocolate chip cookies. He couldn't remember the last time he'd smelled the sweet odor and it instantly reminded him of his home in Lawrence.

"Dean, this is Jessica. Jess, this is my brother, Dean."

"It's nice to finally meet you, Dean." The mirage stepped forward and held out a hand to him, not so much shyly but cautiously, as if her being close might hurt him.

He slowly raised a hand, silently cursing his weakness, and gave the most dazzling smile he could muster. "Nice to meet you too." Her hand was small and smooth, totally uncalloused. Then he caught the key word in her greeting. "Wait, finally?" His eyes shifted to Sam. "How long have I been out?"

Sam shrugged as he stuffed his hands into his jeans. "About two days."

Dean's eyebrows raised, temporarily sidetracked from the beautiful woman standing beside him. "Two days?"

"Like I said, you were in pretty bad shape. For a little while there I wasn't sure if you'd wake up."

Dean nodded as he remembered his concerns. "Could you tell if I'd been poisoned?"

"You hadn't. I'd thought so but turned out it was just an infection and it cleared up." The familiarity with which Sam talked about wounds and cleaning caused Dean to smile. You can take the kid away from hunting but you can't take the hunter out of the kid, he thought, not saying it aloud for Jessica's sake. He didn't know how much she knew about them.

He turned his attention back to her. "So, Jess." She smiled, growing more aware of his womanizing behavior. "Are you Sam's roommate?"

She glanced at Sam, smiling more. "You could say that."

"She's my girlfriend, Dean," Sam said from the doorway, a slight warning intact.

Dean understood and smiled. Didn't mean he wouldn't give Sam a run for his money. "We'll see about that," he said with a wink at Jess. She laughed and shook her head, walking back to Sam. The way his brother looked at her made Dean's heart squeeze. He had never seen that much happiness in Sam's eyes and the way he gently brushed a strand of her curly hair away from her face was gentle and filled with sweetness. Sam was truly happy.

Dean knew he should be happy for him and the more he listened to them talk, about how they'd met and what events took place before they moved in together, he knew this was where Sam belonged. But that didn't cause the ache in his chest to ease at all. And it wasn't from the throbbing wound.


	4. Chapter 4

"Dean?"

His eyes drifted open and he smiled lightly, the sight of her barely visible through his sleepy eyes. But he could see enough. Jess was beautiful, not just on the outside. Maybe even more on the inside. She was sweet and gentle but also stubborn and confident. She was the perfect girl for Sam. And the fact that she baked the best oatmeal chocolate cookies Dean had ever tasted added to the list of things he liked about her.

"Are you awake?" She quietly stepped into the room, a towel covered plate in her hands. The smell gave away the surprise before she sat on the bed and removed the towel. Dean's eyes swept over the treats, his stomach growling in response. He hadn't eaten much since waking the day before but Jess always had soup or bread on hand in case he needed anything.

"Yeah," Dean replied as he sat up, the motion easier than yesterday. His body was regaining strength but the blood loss had taken its toll. And with the infection clearing up thanks to Sam's care, he was feeling much better.

Jess folded the towel and placed two cookies on it before handing them to Dean. "Sam and I are heading to class," she said, glancing at the window. The sun's gleaming light poured through the east facing window and Dean estimated the time to be 7. "But I wanted you to eat something before we left." Her smile was bright but the hint of dark circles under her eye made Dean guess that she wasn't sleeping very well on the floor.

"Thank you," he said with an apologetic smile, accepting his breakfast. "Sorry for taking your bed. Sam could have put me on the floor."

Jess shook her head. "No, it's fine. It's more important that you get better."

Dean looked at her for a long moment, suddenly finding it difficult to see her and not his mother. He rarely thought about the woman he'd loved so dearly but Jessica reminded him of her, from the way she moved her hands when she spoke to the nurturing expression she wore. "Sam's lucky to have you. You should know that."

Her smile softened and she looked down to her plate of cookies, obviously surprised - and pleased - by his honesty. Her eyes met his and she quietly replied, "Other way around."

"Ready to go?" Sam's tall form appeared in the doorway, his hand knocking once on the door as he adjusted his backpack with the other.

Jess stood, sending a final smile to Dean before walking to him. "Yeah, let's go."

She passed and Sam waved, almost unnecessarily with their proximity, and smiled broadly. "We'll be back for lunch so don't do anything stupid."

Dean stuffed a cookie into his mouth and shook his head, mumbling loudly past the food. "Stupid? Me?"

Sam chuckled and stepped back when Jess snuck beside him. "See you later." The two headed for the door and Dean called out his thanks to Jess for the food. When the door locked behind them, Dean looked around the room, a smile still on his lips. He couldn't remember the last time he had been so useless and yet enjoyed the time so much. Being with Sam again, talking to him late at night while Sam did homework and Dean refused to let him work in silence, was a pleasure that Dean had almost forgotten about. And seeing him happy now caused Dean much joy.

It was a strange thing, he thought, listening to the bustle of students in the hallway and on the walkways outside. Dean had come with the slight assumption that seeing his brother again would cause Sam to want to drop everything and come back with him to their father and their life. But somehow the opposite had occurred. Instead of Sam wanting Dean's life, Dean found himself envying Sam's life.

Sam had called their father the day before and after a very short conversation regarding Dean's and John's own whereabouts, Sam set the phone down and gave a forced smile. "Forgot how much I'd missed our long chats."

The life of a hunter wasn't for Sam, Dean knew now. And not just because of the trying relationship between father and son. Sam had learned how to think for himself, how to be his own person, something Dean failed to do under his blinding admiration for their father. And Sam would be happier for it. He would graduate and get a good job and be a good scumbag, as Dean had told him in jest. Maybe a lawyer wasn't the best life but it sure as hell beat Dean's.

Dean finished the second cookie, satisfying his hunger temporarily and shifted, gauging his body's reaction to movement. The pain had diminished greatly overnight and instead of a throbbing, gripping sensation of sharp pain, a dull ache now stood in its place. Much to Dean's thankfulness. He'd checked the wound the night before and thanks to Sam's careful stitching, it was healing well.

His legs swung over the bed, still carefully, and he stood. It was the first time since he'd arrived and his legs felt wobbly beneath him, but with the support of the nearby table, he balanced himself. He didn't force himself to walk, just stood, testing his endurance. If it was good, he might consider leaving.

It wasn't a consideration that he favored but it was for the best. His Dad would need him at some point and Sam and Jess deserved to have their regular life back - along with their bed. Plus, he reasoned, there was only so long he could stand living in the same place. Not to mention he missed his car.

After a moment, and with his legs feeling stronger, Dean began to walk. Baby steps, he considered, but it was movement and he felt good. It took a while but he rounded the bed and walked to the window, leaning on whatever was around. There she was. His eyes fell on his beloved car and a smile curved his lips. Seeing her amongst a hundred other cars made her stand out even more, he thought.

But then his smile faded. The car, what it represented, all of it, called to him. He wanted to drive everywhere, for hours and sometimes days on end, and hunt and shoot and fight. It was what he loved. But he also loved Sam. His brother had been his main focus all of his life up until Sam left and that had been excruciating. The first few hunts without him had almost gotten Dean killed. He just hadn't cared. Sam's leaving had left a gaping hole in Dean and it took him a long time to fill it. And nothing had filled it properly. Not girls, or alcohol, or their father.

So how could he leave him again? How would this time be any less difficult?

Dean turned away from the window and moved back to the bed, falling onto it as he let out a breath. His mind word tirelessly to figure out what to do and slowly, he came to a conclusion. He looked around for a paper and pen and upon finding it, he raised his knee, set the notebook on it, and began to write.


	5. Chapter 5

And finally we have the last part of the Stanford fic for Simone! Darling, I really hope you enjoyed it even half as much as I enjoyed writing it! Your idea was perfect and I just hope I did it justice :)

Dean quickly regretted leaving the apartment when he looked down the long flight of stairs, the steps seeming to never actually reach the bottom. Dean hadn't anticipated the height and took in a slow breath, beginning the downward walk. He wondered how Sam had dragged him up the first night.

"Hey, man, you alright?"

Dean turned back and saw a young man on the stairs behind him. He'd been so focused on each step that he hadn't noticed him. "Oh, yeah, I'm good," he said with a small smile.

The blonde haired man hurried to the step Dean was on. "I saw you coming out of Sam's apartment..." He left the sentence hanging with a question mark at the end.

"Yeah, Sam's my brother. I was staying with him for a few days."

The young man's brow cocked. "You do know that's not allowed, right?"

Dean took another step, trying to make the student continue on. He wasn't really in the mood for chit chat. Or a lecture. "Extenuating circumstances," he said quietly.

"Oh, okay." Matching him step for step, he held out a hand. "My name's Brady. I'm a friend of Sam's."

Dean remembered Sam mentioning him and that he had introduced Sam to Jess so Dean gave a friendly nod. "Good to meet you."

"I just wanted to make sure that Sam was alright and you weren't breaking in or something. And you know you can't stay around any more because -"

"Right, the rules." Dean tried to hide his discomfort that was beginning to form under the bandaged area and he controlled his breathing, making sure to not seem any more winded than Brady was - who wasn't at all. "Don't worry, I'm leaving."

Brady gave a smile that seemed a little too relieved. "Okay. Good. Well I hope you told Sam because he's probably gonna be out late tonight and it would be weird for Jess to come back and not see you there if she was expecting you to stay." His word seemed to run into each other and Dean wasn't sure if he took a breath the whole sentence. Brady skipped ahead on the stairs and turned back, grinning. "But don't worry, I'll swing by tonight and tell her. Well, I'm late for class so I'll see you." And leaving no room for Dean's reply, the young man practically ran down the remaining flight and burst out the door.

Dean stopped, grasping the banister with a shaking hand. He'd barely paid attention to Brady's long speech as the throbbing grew worse. He dragged air into his burning lungs. Maybe he was doing too much too soon but he had to get out. Especially with that note he'd left... he had to go now or never.

He slowly made his way down the final steps and walked out of the dorm, eyes focused on his beloved car. His feet seemed to move faster beneath him with its own sense of relief at seeing her again. "Hey baby," he whispered, running a hand from the front of the hood to the windshield. He carefully slipped inside, pressing a hand over the bandage again just to be safe, and pulled the door closed behind him.

Staring at the large school ahead of him, and not knowing where Sam was inside of it, he quietly said, "See ya later, Sammy."

Sam stepped into the dorm room, dropping his backpack by the open door as he hurried in. He'd forgotten his law book and searched the living room for it before heading into the bedroom. "Sorry to bother you, man, but I forgot..." Sam stopped when he walked into the room and found it empty. He glanced back out of the bedroom. "Dean? Hey, you here?" His voice seemed to echo in the empty apartment.

Concern edged at him as he walked further into the room, finding the bed perfectly made and not a thing out of place. Then he noticed the white folded paper on the side table. Looking around once more to see if Dean was hiding somewhere for an unknown reason, Sam picked up the note and sat on the bed. As he began to read, his eyes widened.

'Sam,

I wanted to say thanks for patching me up. I guess I taught you well. And in case you're wondering why I'm not here, I couldn't stay anymore. For one thing, I think if I didn't your girlfriend would have kicked me out. She was eyeing the bed and I felt pretty bad for keeping her - and you - off it. It was stupid of you to p-' The words beyond that were scratched out. 'Never mind. Anyways, I've been trying to think of what to say about this. I have to be honest, Sammy, I hadn't expected to enjoy myself here. But I did. You've got a great life, man. Jessica is awesome, really, she's great. Of course she'd probably be better with me but whatever, she seems happy. And you're pretty happy too, Sam. You're turning into a real man now, more of a man that I ever saw you becoming with Dad. You and I both know that hunting is what I love, it's in my blood, and I always thought it was in yours too. But it isn't. This is what you love, the whole thing, the school books and assignments and bright future, it's all you. And I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own two eyes. You're happy. You deserve it. I know how hard it was for you to leave but I know how much harder it would have been for you to stay with Dad and me. So don't worry about any bad feelings, I understand. And Dad will too someday. This turned out a hell of a lot longer than I mean it to. Sorry. I guess all this was to say that...' The pressure in the handwriting changed, Sam noticed, going from hard to soft, as if Dean had taken a break in between. 'Well I'm proud of you, Sammy. You're gonna be a great lawyer. Don't worry about Dad or me coming to drag you back into hunting. We won't, I promise you that. You and Jess will have a great life together and I really hope you get everything you want outta life. Believe me, you deserve it. If you ever wanna talk, you know my number.

Stay safe, little brother.

Dean'

Sam hadn't realized he was crying until a tear hit the paper. He quickly swiped them away, surprised by his reaction. But more surprised by Dean. Part of him had assumed that Dean's presence had been a way to lure Sam back into the life he'd left. But as it turned out, not at all.

He stood slowly, still staring at the carefully written words. Everything Dean said was true and it amazed Sam how well his brother knew him, even after all those years apart.

Jaw clenching, Sam set the note on the dresser and sighed, inhaling deeply. He would be late for class if he didn't find the book and leave immediately, he knew. Sam's bottom lip trembled as he bit back his emotion at the knowledge that he might never see his brother or father again. It would be for the best, he thought as his fingers grazed the velvet box in his jacket pocket, especially now. Maybe one day they would talk again. Maybe he and his Dad would even see eye to eye on something.

He cleared his throat and shook his head quickly, determining that he would talk to Jess tonight after he got home about the future - and their future. Then maybe he would call Dean. Or maybe it would be best to just leave it alone. He was sure that note hadn't been easy for Dean to write and Sam respected him greatly for it.

A loud alarm travelled over the Stanford halls and Sam jumped, immediately returning to searching for the book. Upon finding it, he gave a final glance to Dean's note and smiled, feeling all together stupid but unable to not reply to his brother's final words. "You too, man."

**End**


End file.
